Chapter 3
Anna
Night has always been my ally. In the shadows of my father's bankruptcy, when I was just a kid, I taught myself to code. Through countless sleepless hours, I built my empire. At three in the morning, that same darkness lets me sneak out of my own house. I need a drive, or I'll lose my mind.
“Going somewhere?”
“Jesus! You know if you scare me to death, you're out of a job, right? You can't just materialize from the shadows like that,” I protest, my heart hammering against my ribs as I spot my bodyguard leaning against my Aston Martin. “Do you usually spend the night outside?”
“First night, yeah. For some reason, you all try to sneak out. It's like a tradition. Was starting to worry about you, to be honest. Thought I'd be standing here all night for nothing.”
“I'm not 'you all,'” I snap. “And I don't need your permission to take a drive from my own house.”
“You're right about that, but my job is to protect you, so I'm coming with. Keys, I'm driving,” she commands, palm up.
“In your dreams.”
“Either I drive, or we go back inside. Your choice, Anna.”
Her tone brooks no argument and makes my blood boil. For a second, I want to fire her, call Marcus even at three AM and tell him to find another bodyguard. I want to remind her I'm the one in charge, not her. Instead, I open my hand and let the keys drop into her waiting palm, then shuffle to the passenger seat.
“I choose where we go,” I growl as the engine purrs to life.
She just nods and drives with the same quiet confidence she seems to apply to everything. Sometimes she reminds me of those big cats in documentaries. Beautiful and deadly.
“Head to the coast,” I direct, more to break the silence than anything else.
Soon the city gives way to beaches, and moonlight sparkles on the water with breathtaking beauty.
“You know? I used to do this in Afghanistan,” she says suddenly. “Take walks at night when everything got too intense. Though the dangers there were worse than paparazzi.”
“Why did you leave the army?”
“Did you really think you could slip away from me that easy?”
“I asked first,” I counter.
“Guess I realized it wasn't something I could do forever. I was in special ops, classified stuff, can't give you details,” she explains. “Started getting too dangerous for my taste. Your turn.”
“Yes, I thought I could slip away,” I admit.
“No, tell me why you wanted to. Do I crowd you that much?”
“It's not that.”
“No?”
“No, it's just… Well, this energy project, the prototype we're building… It's not just another innovation. This could change everything.”
“And that scares you.”
Not a question. A statement, like she's stating a fact, and that throws me.
“I'm not scared.”
“Liar,” she challenges, glancing at me with a half-smile. “You're terrified, but you're not afraid of failure. You've failed before and survived. Always rose from your ashes, stronger and better. Failure doesn't scare you. Success does.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Doesn't it? Anna, if your prototype works... damn, you'll alter the course of history. You'll improve millions of people's lives. That's one hell of a responsibility, I'd be scared shitless,” she sighs, shaking her head slightly.
“Stop the car!” I order.
“Here?”
“Stop the fucking car!” I insist, voice rising.
Dakota looks at me weird but obeys, pulling right into a lookout. Below us, the ocean crashes against a massive cliff.
“What's your game?”
“I'm not playing anything,” she defends.
“I don't need a damn shrink. You're my bodyguard, okay? You don't have to make conversation, you can stay quiet. And you have no right to analyze me.”
“Holy shit, what a temper you've got,” she mutters.
“Don't you dare make that comment to anyone else, got it? Now, start the car and keep driving,” I yell, smacking the dashboard and only managing to hurt my hand.
We drive in silence for another half hour. The coastal road starts winding up a mountain, the ocean appearing and disappearing as we move. Now and then, Dakota glances at me, like she's gauging how mad I still am.
“My job is to notice small details, Anna, don't take it personal. Like how you touch your Cartier watch when you're uncomfortable or wrinkle your nose when you concentrate.”
“I don't-” I stop, pause as I realize I'm stroking my watch.
“Listen, it's normal to feel alone in your position. I've worked for important people, maybe none as brilliant as you. But I can tell you this — they all feel lonely at the top, like they can't share their worries or fears with anyone,” she explains, voice dropping as her words hit home.
“My board questions every decision I make. My father always thought I was too soft.”
“Yet your father went bankrupt, and you're about to change the world,” she corrects.
“And they want to kill me for it,” I huff.
“Tell me more about your project,” she suggests. “Not the corporate speech you've rehearsed for financial press. Tell me what drove you to research something like this, why it matters to you.”
“Nobody's ever asked me that,” I admit.
“I don't want to know about your profit margins or market impact. I want to know your why.”
“When I was twelve, my father's company went bankrupt,” I confess, remembering the pain of those years. “It hit hard. I went from having everything — big house, vacations, horse riding lessons… to losing it all. Overnight I had to leave private school because we couldn't afford it. Girls I thought were my friends stopped talking to me, and I didn't understand why.”
“Must've been a rough change.”
“The worst part? The company didn't fail because it made bad products or because my father was incompetent. Power costs and regulations made it impossible to compete against products made in other countries. There were fights, screaming. My mother tried to kill herself. It was horrible.”
Dakota stays quiet, letting me continue, not trying to pull any information I'm not willing to share.
“This prototype I'm building… It's not just about clean energy. It'll be cheap too. It'll level the playing field, bring progress and…”
“And some big companies will watch their huge profits vanish into thin air,” she adds, voice low.
“Exactly. But that's how it's been since the beginning of economic activity. Whenever innovation emerges, it helps many, but also hurts a few to some degree. They need to adapt.”
“It's not always easy,” she points out.
“No, it's not. Still, the benefit to society as a whole outweighs the damage to a few big companies, don't you think?”
“Hold on tight! We've got company,” she growls, checking the rearview mirror.
“That black car? How long?” I ask, looking back.
“A while.”
“Why didn't you say anything?” I protest.
“Wanted to be sure.”
“And now you are?” I press.
“Damn right.”
She floors it and the engine roars as she takes the curves at a terrifying speed.
“They're good,” she mutters, watching in the mirror as they stay with us.
We reach a wider area and unexpectedly, Dakota yanks the handbrake, spinning us completely around. The car tailing us shoots past, and I hear their tires screech as they slam on their brakes, but we're already racing back the other way.
“Holy shit! Where'd you learn to drive like that?”
“Classified information,” she answers calmly, shrugging.
“I don't think I can get used to people wanting to kill me,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath.
“For now, I think they're just trying to scare you.”
“Well, it's working,” I confess, letting out a long breath.
“Anna,” she sighs, eyes fixed on the road. “I'm here to protect you, okay? I won't let anyone hurt you,” she reminds me, releasing her right hand to grab mine and squeeze it gently.